Chinese leader Xi Jinping has unleashed yet another seismic purge in the People’s Liberation Army, removing two of its highest-ranking commanders: Vice Chairman of the Central Military Commission Gen. Zhang Youxia and CMC member Gen. Liu Zhenli. Announced in late January 2026, this move has reduced the once seven-member CMC—China’s supreme military authority—to just two: Xi himself as chairman and the remaining vice chairman, Gen. Zhang Shengmin.
Since seizing power in 2012, Xi has justified wave after wave of dismissals under the banner of “anti-corruption.” Early purges were widely seen as tools to eliminate rivals and consolidate control. After abolishing presidential term limits in 2018, many assumed the storm had passed. Instead, it has intensified, now targeting those Xi himself elevated—especially in the military.
Mao Zedong’s famous dictum that “political power grows out of the barrel of a gun” underscores the PLA’s centrality to Chinese Communist Party rule. The CMC oversees all branches of the armed forces, and the party’s general secretary has always doubled as its chairman to guarantee loyalty. For generals, the vice chairmanship represents the pinnacle of a career.
Unlike Mao or Deng Xiaoping, who fought the revolutionary war, Xi has no military combat experience. This outsider status has fueled persistent insecurity, particularly the fear of a coup. Between March 2023 and now, Xi has dismissed more than 20 senior generals, including two former defense ministers and multiple CMC vice chairmen—all on corruption charges.
Zhang Youxia’s recent fall is especially striking. A “princeling” like Xi (son of a revolutionary general), he enjoyed decades of close ties and was long considered untouchable. As the PLA’s highest-ranking uniformed officer and a key Xi ally, Zhang helped enforce loyalty and suppress dissent. Zhang’s purge, alongside Liu’s, signals that no one is safe—not even the most trusted.
The PLA Daily, the military’s official outlet, accused that Zhang and Liu had “seriously betrayed the trust and expectations of the party central committee and the CMC,” and had “fostered political and corruption problems that undermined the party’s leadership.”
But the official announcement hasn’t prevented numerous rumors and speculations surrounding Zhang’s downfall, and even the Wall Street Journal has entered the fray, alleging Zhang leaked information about China’s nuclear weapons to the U.S. and accepted bribes for personnel decisions. However, I find the WSJ’s claims dubious at best. As the highest-ranking general, Zhang already possesses significant wealth and stands at the apex of a power structure. Why would he jeopardize everything he has for a bit more money?
Another prevailing rumor suggests that Zhang was against invading Taiwan, leading Xi to replace him with a general more inclined toward aggression. However, those who spread such narratives fail to grasp a fundamental truth: In a system where the party commands the gun, no general can defy an order to attack Taiwan—disobedience would mean instant destruction.
Only Xi knows the actual reason for Zhang’s downfall. Speculating or spreading baseless rumors is unproductive. Nevertheless, without delving into Xi’s motivations, two clear implications arise from this latest incident.
First, a Chinese invasion of Taiwan is highly unlikely before summer 2026—and possibly well beyond. The PLA is in profound disarray. Officers who rose under Zhang now face uncertainty; self-preservation trumps operational boldness. Replacing leaders is one thing, but rebuilding trust and cohesion across ranks takes time. Soldiers won’t risk their lives for commanders who could vanish tomorrow. Xi, ever calculating, must recognize that launching a complex amphibious assault amid internal fear and distrust would court disaster.
Taiwan thus gains precious breathing room. Yet it lives on borrowed time. Xi has repeatedly vowed “reunification” in his lifetime, and the PLA’s centennial on Aug. 1, 2027, looms as a symbolic deadline for decisive action—whether through blockade, coercion, or war. Only a dramatic external shift (e.g., regime change in a key energy supplier like Iran via U.S. action) might force delay.
Second, Xi’s relentless purges reveal a stark truth: Despite ruling over 1.4 billion people, he may be the loneliest figure in Zhongnanhai (a compound where the most senior CCP leaders live). Absolute power breeds absolute isolation. The more he amasses control, the deeper his paranoia grows, eroding trust in everyone around him.
Those who are close to Xi may come to a troubling realization: a dictator will abandon all human connections—love and friendship included—in the ruthless pursuit of absolute power. In such an environment, flattery and obedience become essential for survival. Honest advice on military readiness, economic challenges, or strategic mistakes has become too risky. No one dares to challenge him, even as he moves toward potential disaster. They will not pull him back from the edge; in fact, they may quietly hope that he stumbles.
History offers a chilling parallel in the death of Josef Stalin. On the night of Feb. 28, 1953, Stalin collapsed from a stroke but lay unattended for hours. His guards, terrified after years of purges, hesitated to check on him. When they finally entered his room the following evening, he was on the floor, soaked in urine, paralyzed yet alive.
Many of Russia’s best doctors had been executed or exiled due to Stalin’s purges. Stalin’s inner circle, including the notorious secret police chief Lavrentiy Beria, reportedly stalled in calling for medical help, terrified of being the next victims of a purge if Stalin survived. Ultimately, after five days of agony, Stalin succumbed on March 5, a grim testament to the toxic fear he instilled in everyone around him.
Nature’s justice is merciless: The tyrant who trusts no one and is willing to attack everyone else will eventually be abandoned by all when he needs them most.
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